


Start of Something

by galactic-pirates (stillsearching47)



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 11:30:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17079512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillsearching47/pseuds/galactic-pirates
Summary: Lucy wanted to vanish, to fold in on herself and disappear. She was surrounded by bookstore patrons but nobody gave her, or her table, or her advertising banner a second glance; nobody until Garcia Flynn.





	Start of Something

**Author's Note:**

> For _Ripperblackstaff_ who tried to stump me by prompting a “you saved me” kiss coupled with “Don’t say you love me.” coupled with celebrity/fan au. Think I found a way :) Hope you enjoy!

This was painful.

Lucy was trying very hard not to cringe but it was difficult when all she wanted to do was vanish, to fold in on herself and disappear. All around her bookstore patrons milled about, their attention on their phones, or on the shelves, or on the conversations between them. Nobody gave her, or her table, or her advertising banner a second glance. The stacks of books in front of her, neatly lined up in rows waiting for buyers that weren’t coming, seemed to mock her with their perfect symmetry.

The metal folding chair she was sitting on wasn’t helping her mood. It was uncomfortable, the back- _rest_ cut into her back, and the so-called padding was so thin she could feel the screws which connected the chair together.

She was Lucy Preston, she was a renowned historian and scholar; she certainly felt like she captivated her students but it seemed the same wasn’t true for the paying public. Why had she let her agent talk her into this?

_“All authors have to do book launches Lucy, it’s the reality of the modern world. Not even academics can just write. Besides it’ll be great, think of all the new people you can inspire with your enthusiasm for history.”_

‘All the people’? Yeah, right. Lucy twirled the pen, the one she had bought to sign the books, between her fingers before tossing it back onto the table. This was embarrassing, it was like a horrific train wreck and she was trapped by her own sense of duty. She had promised to be here all afternoon and she would honour that promise; then she would go home, throw back a few drinks, and try to pretend this had never happened. Also she would never, _ever_ let her agent talk her into this again. She was an academic, not some kind of celebrity.

Bored, Lucy blew air between her lips making a soft puttering sound. There were a couple of teenagers giggling and reading a good chunk of a book for free down the left aisle. There was a frowning guy in a suit that seemed to be pulling books off the shelf at random, reading the back and then putting them back on the shelf in the wrong places. Another guy, this one in a turtleneck and leather jacket, was lingering near the children’s books. A student slouching in an overly large hoodie and headphones kept adding books to the large pile in their arms. Lucy winced in sympathy, they looked tired and stressed though whether that was because of the forthcoming study marathon, or the book bill, she didn’t know. It was probably both, she remembered those days.

Then her gaze hit upon the store manager. She had briefly met him when she’d arrived and found him officious. All the other employees name tags had their first name, his read Mr. Whaley. He’d regarded her check shirt and black jeans with as much disdain as if she had been covered in dog shit. Diplomatically she hadn’t pointed out the bacon grease streak staining his paunch, or how his red tie clashed with the dirty-green shade of his shirt. If she had thought suit-guy was frowning, then Whaley’s was like the warmth of the sun compared to what a tiny lamp exuded. The term ‘poisonous glare’ could have been coined with him in mind. Lucy glanced back over to the teenagers but Whaley wasn’t looking at them. She shifted, looking around and then her heart jumped.

He was glaring at her.

Almost as if he could tell she’d realised, he stalked over towards her, like a lion circling his prey. Despite herself Lucy gulped, rising to her feet, her hands nervously fluttering over the large untouched stack of books in front of her. She was really going to kill her agent for this.

“Miss Preston!” Whaley hissed. “Care to explain this …” He gestured grandiosely around.

Lucy shrugged. “You’ll have to take it up with my agent. They are the ones that thought this was a good idea.”

“But _you_ are the one who is littering my store with your …” Whaley sniffed. “Printed drivel. Do you have any idea how this makes me look? Your failure is scaring away my customers.”

“They are just ignoring me, not the rest of your store.” Lucy pointed out, a bite creeping into her tone. _‘Printed drivel?!?!’_ She was a professor, she would be up for tenure soon, she knew the importance of keeping her cool but if this illiterate self-centered son of a baboon said one more thing…

“Excuse me, excuse me. Sorry to interrupt but are you Lucy Preston?” The man in the turtleneck asked.

Lucy blinked, she had been so focused on Mr. Self Important Whaley that she hadn’t noticed him approach.

He smiled and reached forward, picking up one of her books. “Would you mind autographing this for me? I’m your biggest fan.”

“Yes! Yes, I can do that.” Lucy nodded and took the book from him, side-eyeing Whaley, who humphed and thankfully walked away. Lucy heaved a theatrical sigh of relief. “Thank you, you saved me.”

“Just don’t fall in love with me. I’m not the dashing hero type.”

Lucy stared at him. He stared back. A beat later the moment was broken as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, escaping her mouth with a snort. The dirty look Whaley shot her, from across the store, just made her laugh more.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Garcia Flynn.” He offered her his hand and Lucy froze, her book in one hand and a pen in the other. Flustered she threw both items at the table and shook his hand.

“Lucy Preston.”

Her eyes crinkled with amusement at the automatic, but completely unnecessary introduction. Flynn’s tongue wet his lips, his smile deepening, and she felt a completely unexpected stab of attraction. She looked down, breaking his gaze, her cheeks suffusing with heat.

“You already knew that of course. I’m sorry, all this …” she gestured around. “This is my first book. I’m a lecturer, I teach, and so standing up in front of everyone - not that you are everyone. You are actually the first to talk to me and my biggest fan? Wow. Although how does that work as this is my first book. Have you read it? Are you a history lover? Not, I meant, do you teach? I’m babbling aren’t I?”

Lucy sank back down into the chair, laughing softly at herself. Was she really this out of practice in talking to people that weren’t students or colleagues? Yes, the answer was yes. She was so wrapped up in her work that grocery shopping was the highlight of her social calendar.

Flynn chuckled and shrugged. “A little bit. I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, it’s been a bit of a day. I’m not used to all this.” She sank back down in the chair, and reached for the book and pen again. “Do you just want it signed or a dedication?”

“I don’t … mind?” Flynn ventured and Lucy suddenly understood.

She leant back and narrowed her eyes, tapping the pen speculatively against her lips as she appraised him. “My biggest fan hmm? Look I appreciate the save but you don’t have to actually buy the book.”

“No I want to, I really enjoyed it. All those moments in history, fascinating stuff,” Flynn insisted. “And a signed copy well…”

“You haven’t read it, have you?” Lucy asked dryly.

Flynn shrugged, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once more. “I … glanced at the first few pages.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Lucy hummed in amusement.

The ‘her biggest fan’ talk had been a line of bull to feed Whaley. Mr Garcia Flynn should have just admitted that when she called him on it, and ordinarily she wouldn’t have appreciated the lies. However it was so obvious that he had never intended to deceive her, and so clear that his actual intention had been to cheer her up, that she couldn’t bring herself to mind.

All afternoon the weight of embarrassment had been building; she’d been trapped and tense, her muscles wanting to run while her mind ordered her body to stay still. Her bribe for enduring was the promise of a glass of wine, a bubble bath and a good book. She knew that would relax her and the debacle of the failed book launch would fade. She’d been wound as tight as a spring before they started talking. Now she felt almost as relaxed as if she’d just finished that promised bubble bath.

“I _do_ want a copy,” Flynn repeated softly.

Lucy met his eyes, and then suddenly it was all too intense, so she stared back down at the book again. She knew she was blushing. Honestly this was weird, she didn’t do instant attraction, her past boyfriends had been long-time friends or colleagues first. Garcia Flynn had a magnetic presence, his accent was spine-tingling, but mostly it was his eyes, they really didn’t hide much.

“Here,” Lucy said thickly, handing him the signed copy.

He brandished it with a smile and turned to leave. She closed her eyes. Whaley would probably be pleased if she left early, and while she wanted to spite him, sitting here for another hour or so until the store closed held no appeal. Sighing heavily she reached for one of the collapsed cardboard boxes. The books belonged to her publisher, not the store, despite the fact that any books purchased were rung through the store. Quite frankly she wasn’t sure how it worked, all she knew was that she’d need to pack them all back up before she could head home.

“Need a hand?”

Lucy turned, a slight smile spreading across her face. With a receipt to pair with the book her ‘biggest fan’ was back. She hadn’t expected to see him again. It was like one of those random path-crossing meetings. He’d brightened her day, so the theory went that on another occasion she’d somehow brighten someone else's day and pay it forward. His return didn’t exactly change everything, although the butterflies taking up residence in her stomach might disagree.

“I don’t think anyone else is going to show so I decided to call it an afternoon,” Lucy explained. “I certainly won’t turn down help. I lost count of how many trips it took to get set-up this morning.”

“Where is your car?” Flynn asked as he put his newly purchased book down on a nearby shelf.

“The side alley - thankfully. I don’t think I would have wanted to carry these boxes much further. It’s surprising how much paper weighs.”

“Well I suppose I’m going to find out,” Flynn said dryly, grabbing and reconstructing another cardboard box.

Lucy laughed and shrugged. She glanced across the store and saw Whaley staring at them. She caught his eye and he sniffed and turned, wandering in the opposite direction. He had been the bane of her existence today but now she was finally putting this mess behind her, she really just felt sorry for him. How anyone could work around books all day and still be that unhappy was a mystery. The highlight of her job was getting to spend hours diving into the stacks. Oh she liked teaching, aside from perhaps grading papers, but it was books she really loved. This was like her version of a candy-store and she couldn’t help but feel sad for anyone that didn’t experience that magic.

“What brought you into the bookstore?” Lucy asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“Ah…” Flynn hesitated, his eyes darting over to the children's section. Lucy’s gaze followed, remembering now that was where she’d first seen him. “My… my daughter liked the Knight Princess series and the latest recently came out.”

“Oh so you were getting it for her,” Lucy commented. Flynn rubbed the back of his head, his gaze was fixed firmly on the floor but what little she could see of his expression was agonised. Her blood froze. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. He didn’t need to say the words, the past tense of ‘liked’ and his body language told her the situation.

“I think I like this book better.” Flynn gestured, a copy of her book in hand. “We’ve established rescuing princesses really isn’t my thing.” He rolled his eyes at himself, his mouth twisting at the forced humor.

Lucy swallowed. He wanted to change the subject and quite frankly she understood, they were veritable strangers after all, but her brain had gone annoyingly blank. It took a few awkward seconds before she scrambled enough to seize upon his comment.

“Actually don’t the princesses do the saving in that series?” Lucy arched an eyebrow.

Flynn smiled sadly and nodded. “They do indeed.”

The awkward silence descended once more. Lucy looked unseeing at the table, now piled with bulging cardboard boxes, as opposed to shiny neat rows of books.

“The car!” Lucy blurted out. “We’ve pretty much packed up so if you still want to help…”

“Lead the way.”

With a slight grunt Flynn hefted two boxes of books, stumbling slightly as he found his footing. Lucy shook her head slightly and lifted a single box, wondering what it was about men that drove them to always take too much. Although he easily kept pace with her as she strode toward the exit to the store, and then along the sidewalk to the alley, so maybe she shouldn’t underestimate him.

It had been quite a jigsaw getting the boxes in the trunk and she had hoped that she wouldn’t need to do it on the way home. In her naive dreams this morning she had imagined a fairly empty trunk, all the books having found new homes, being clutched by eager history-loving hands. Still, as they wandered back to the store for another load, Lucy side-eyed Garcia Flynn. Today definitely hadn’t turned out all bad.

In the end it took another four trips before the corner of the store was the way she had found it, and her car’s suspension was sunk low due to the weight of all that paper. Lucy slammed the lid of the trunk down and hesitated. She wanted to ask if he wanted to grab a drink or something but she was tongue-tied again. If nothing else today had proven that she really needed more practice socializing with people that weren’t her students, colleagues, or her mom.

“Are you hungry?” Flynn asked abruptly. “Want to grab dinner? Everyone has to eat right?”

Lucy opened her mouth, before swiftly closing it, her teeth clacking together. She had been about to say ‘isn’t it a little early for dinner’ but truthly she was starving. She’d skipped lunch and it had been a long time since breakfast, especially because she hadn’t been able to choke down very much. This morning felt like a long time ago now, back when she’d been a mix of nerves and hope about this book launch, before her worst fears had actually become reality. Idly she wondered if that meant she would be more or less nervous in future, and then she realized she hadn’t actually answered Flynn’s question.

“Yeah, sure, why not? Everyone does have to eat and I’m starving. What are you in the mood for?” She leaned against the car’s trunk and tried to look casual.

“There’s this great pizza place a couple of blocks from here.” Flynn gestured, pointing with his thumb to indicate right. “They have a parking lot across the street…”

“Ah Artorio’s,” Lucy interrupted. “I know it, yeah. Do you need a ride or ...?”

“I got the subway,” Flynn confirmed. He smiled. “A ride would be great.”

*****

A couple of hours later Lucy stumbled out of Artorio’s, mellow from two beers and pleasantly stuffed with gloriously gooey cheesy pizza. Over dinner she’d learned that her dining companion preferred to be called Flynn rather than Garcia, didn’t mind pineapple on pizza but considered artichokes to be like the devil, and a few dozen more things besides. The conversation had flowed easily, just as it had from the very first moment Flynn had picked up her book and professed to be her biggest fan.

They’d even spent a considerable time discussing history. Usually if that happened she realized after a while how much she was dominating the conversation and embarrassedly stopped talking, everything was then stilted and awkward afterwards. That hadn’t happened this time. Flynn hadn’t been joking when he said her book was more his speed, he was an enthusiastic amateur and she’d really felt his interest. He’d asked questions, and contributed and she’d found that she’d then been eager to talk about other things. They’d spent twenty minutes dissecting the latest happenings in the baseball season. It had been nice.

Even now leaving the restaurant she still felt relaxed. Usually this was the point when she started to tense up as the ‘subtle’ suggestions started relating to what happened next. Flynn hadn’t crowded her, he hadn’t talked about a nightcap, or made noises about being somewhere more private. When he looked at her, he looked at _her_ , but maybe that meant he wasn’t interested in her?

“I’m this way.” Flynn gestured in the direction of the subway. “I had a great time tonight.”

“Me too,” Lucy said honestly. “Not how I expected today to go but I’m not complaining.”

“Can I get your number?” Flynn reached into his pocket and fished out his cellphone.

Lucy took it with a smile, swiftly entering her number into the contacts. She arched her eyebrow in mute question and Flynn nodded, so she called herself, stopping the call after the first ring so that she had his number. Perhaps it was the historian in her but she missed scribbling numbers down on paper. This was a lot more convenient, and there was a lot less chance of losing the number, but it was another lost romantic cliche sacrificed on the altar of technology. Although she supposed that new cliches had emerged, like finding and duplicating the guy’s mothers number if he was creepy, as karmic justice if he then went onto abuse said number.

“I guess this is it. Goodnight Lucy,” Flynn said.

“Night.” Lucy waved.

Why were goodbyes so awkward? She looked both ways, the street was quiet, so she crossed. She could see her car, parked halfway down the row in the lot, and she reached in her bag for her car keys, only to find that her hand was already full.

“Lucy!” Flynn called. She turned, blushing, seeing him jog across the street, she held out his phone that she’d accidently walked away with.

“I’m sorry I…”

A roar cut through the air. A squeal of tires, the scent of burning rubber and the flash of movement. Lucy grabbed Flynn’s jacket, yanking him forward. He stumbled, she stumbled, their arms went round each other as they twirled in an attempt to stay upright. The car had missed him by an inch if that. Lucy could hear her heart thundering, the near miss spiking the adrenaline. If she hadn’t caught sight of the car fishtailing out of the corner of her eye, if Flynn had been a step or two further away, if the car exhaust hadn’t made such a loud rumbling sound…

“Thank you, you saved me,” Flynn said.

His eyes were wide, his hands warm at her sides. They were close enough she could feel his breath against her lips. Part of her was still stuck in that moment, the handful of heartbeats that marked the close encounter. Her mind was replaying it like a movie, the flash of light reflecting off the cars side, the rev of the engine as it cycled through the gears, the feel of his leather jacket under her hand, the bite of the zip as her grip had tightened. But her heart continued to beat, marking time as her breathing slowed, and the flash of fear faded into the past.

Lucy minutely shook her head, banishing the moment completely. Her lips curved into a smile. “Just don’t fall in love with me,” she joked. “I’m really not the…”

Flynn’s lips met hers, cutting off the rest of the line. The kiss was firm but undemanding, waiting for her response, which she was happy to give. She wound her arms tighter around him and deepened the kiss. Being a dashing hero was overrated, a biggest fan on the other hand… she could work with that.


End file.
